19KING ORFEO

Allies, Antiquities of Worcestershire, p. 120.

1Sir Rackabello had three sons,Wind well your horn, brave hunterSir Ryalash was one of these.And he was a jovial hunter

31.MS.And as thé.62.MS.had bee.111.MS.I wilt.121.MS.miste.162.MS.awaw.171.MS.vnbethought ... while.19.Between 19 and 20 half a page of the MS. is wanting.201. a[fter]:MS. blotted.361.MS.bidds eue.39.Half a page of the MS. is wanting.

31.MS.And as thé.

62.MS.had bee.

111.MS.I wilt.

121.MS.miste.

162.MS.awaw.

171.MS.vnbethought ... while.

19.Between 19 and 20 half a page of the MS. is wanting.

201. a[fter]:MS. blotted.

361.MS.bidds eue.

39.Half a page of the MS. is wanting.

The stanzas are doubled in Christie, to suit the air.

a.31, 42, 72.D.21, 32, 6.John Cole, who had heard an old man sing the ballad fifty years before (Allies, p. 115), could recollect only so much:

'Oh! lady, Oh! lady, what bringst thou here?'Wind went his horn, as a hunter'Thee blow another blast, and he'll soon come to thee.'As thou art a jovial hunterHe whetted his tusks as he came along,Wind went his horn, as a hunter

'Oh! lady, Oh! lady, what bringst thou here?'Wind went his horn, as a hunter'Thee blow another blast, and he'll soon come to thee.'As thou art a jovial hunter

He whetted his tusks as he came along,Wind went his horn, as a hunter

a5, 6stand thus in Allies:

vThen he blowd a blast full north, east, west and south,For he was, etc.And the wild boar heard him full into his den,As he was, etc.viThen he made the best of his speed unto him.(Two lines wrongly supplied from another source.)To Sir Ryalas, etc.

vThen he blowd a blast full north, east, west and south,For he was, etc.And the wild boar heard him full into his den,As he was, etc.

viThen he made the best of his speed unto him.(Two lines wrongly supplied from another source.)To Sir Ryalas, etc.

5 has been completed from the corresponding stanza inD, and the two verses of 6, separated above, are put together.

11. Old Sir Robert.12. was Sir Ryalas.22. Till in a tree-top.31. dost thee.32. The wild boar's killed my lord and has thirty men gored.Burden2. And thou beest.41. for to see.51.As in Allies (see above), exceptfullin his den.52. then heard him full in his den.61.As in Allies (see above), but 62supplied by Bell.72. Thrashed down the trees as he ramped him along.81. 'Oh, what dost thee want of me, wild boar.'Burden2. the jovial.91. summer.92. have got him.102. cut the boar's head off quite.112. Oh, my pretty spotted pig thou hast slew.Burden2. for thou beest.121. I demand them of thee.131. dost ask.141. long locks.142. to tear him through.Burden2. Though he was.152. into twain.161. the knight he doth lie.162. And the wild boar's head is pictured thereby.

11. Old Sir Robert.

12. was Sir Ryalas.

22. Till in a tree-top.

31. dost thee.

32. The wild boar's killed my lord and has thirty men gored.

Burden2. And thou beest.

41. for to see.

51.As in Allies (see above), exceptfullin his den.

52. then heard him full in his den.

61.As in Allies (see above), but 62supplied by Bell.

72. Thrashed down the trees as he ramped him along.

81. 'Oh, what dost thee want of me, wild boar.'

Burden2. the jovial.

91. summer.

92. have got him.

102. cut the boar's head off quite.

112. Oh, my pretty spotted pig thou hast slew.

Burden2. for thou beest.

121. I demand them of thee.

131. dost ask.

141. long locks.

142. to tear him through.

Burden2. Though he was.

152. into twain.

161. the knight he doth lie.

162. And the wild boar's head is pictured thereby.

5, 6.In Allies thus:

vThe wild boar hearing it into his den,Well wind, etc.He whetted his tusks, for to make them strong,And he cut down the oak and the ash as he came along.For to meet with, etc.

Stanza 5 has been completed from stanza vi of Allies' other ballad, and 6 duly separated from the first line of 5.82, 9.In Allies' copy thus:

Stanza 5 has been completed from stanza vi of Allies' other ballad, and 6 duly separated from the first line of 5.

82, 9.In Allies' copy thus:

viiOh! then he cut his head clean off!Well wind, etc.Then there came an old lady running out of the woodSaying, 'You have killed my pretty, my pretty spotted pig.'As thou art, etc.

What stanza 8 should be is easily seen fromC10.C16,D11.As imperfectly remembered by Allies (p. 114):

What stanza 8 should be is easily seen fromC10.

C16,D11.As imperfectly remembered by Allies (p. 114):

In Bromsgrove church his corpse doth lie,Why winded his horn the hunter?Because there was a wild boar nigh,And as he was a jovial hunter.

b."Fragment found on the fly-leaf of an old book."Mr R. White's papers.12, one of these three.13. wide countrie.Burden2. He was.21. was in woods.23. With a bloody river running near she.31. He said, 'Fair lady what are you doing there?'33. killed my lord.4.wanting.

b."Fragment found on the fly-leaf of an old book."Mr R. White's papers.

12, one of these three.

13. wide countrie.

Burden2. He was.

21. was in woods.

23. With a bloody river running near she.

31. He said, 'Fair lady what are you doing there?'

33. killed my lord.

4.wanting.

FOOTNOTES:[180]The friar might also be borrowed from 'The Felon Sow and the Friars of Richmond,' but this piece does not appear to have been extensively known.

[180]The friar might also be borrowed from 'The Felon Sow and the Friars of Richmond,' but this piece does not appear to have been extensively known.

The Leisure Hour, February 14, 1880, No 1468: Folk-Lore from Unst, Shetland, by Mrs Saxby, p. 109.

Mr Edmondston, from whose memory this ballad was derived, notes that though stanzas are probably lost after the first which would give some account of the king in the east wooing the lady in the west, no such verses were sung to him. He had forgotten some stanzas after the fourth, of which the substance was that the lady was carried off by fairies; that the king went in quest of her, and one day saw a company passing along a hill-side, among whom he recognized his lost wife. The troop went to what seemed a great "ha-house," or castle, on the hillside. Stanzas after the eighth were also forgotten, the purport being that a messenger from behind the grey stane appeared and invited the king in.

We have here in traditional song the story of the justly admired mediæval romance of Orpheus, in which fairy-land supplants Tartarus, faithful love is rewarded, and Eurydice (Heurodis, Erodys, Eroudys) is retrieved. This tale has come down to us in three versions:A, in the Auchinleck MS., dating from the beginning of the fourteenth century, Advocates Library, Edinburgh, printed in Laing's Select Remains of the Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland, 'Orfeo and Heurodis,' No 3;B, Ashmole MS., 61, Bodleian Library, of the first half of the fifteenth century, printed in Halliwell's Illustrations of Fairy Mythology, 'Kyng Orfew,' p. 37;C, Harleian MS., 3810, British Museum, printed by Ritson, Metrical Romancëes,II, 248, 'Sir Orpheo.' At the end of the Auchinleck copy we are told that harpers in Britain heard this marvel, and made a lay thereof, which they called, after the king, 'Lay Orfeo.' The other two copies also, but in verses which are a repetition of the introduction to 'Lay le Freine,' call this a Breton lay.

The story is this (A). Orfeo was a king [and so good a harper never none was,B]. One day in May his queen went out to a garden with two maidens, and fell asleep under an "ympe" tree. When she waked she shrieked, tore her clothes, and acted very wildly. Her maidens ran to the palace and called for help, for the queen would go mad. Knights and ladies went to the queen, took her away, and put her to bed; but still the excitement continued. The king, in great affliction, besought her to tell him what was the matter, and what he could do. Alas! she said, I have loved thee as my life, and thou me, but now we must part. As she slept knights had come to her and had bidden her come speak with their king. Upon her refusal, the king himself came, with a company of knights and damsels, all on snow-white steeds, and made her ride on a palfrey by his side, and, after he had shown her his palace, brought her back and said: Look thou be under this ympe tree tomorrow, to go with us; and if thou makest us any let, we will take thee by force, wherever thou be. The next day Orfeo took the queen to the tree under guard of a thousand knights, all resolved to die before they would give her up: but she was spirited away right from the midst of them, no one knew whither.

The king all but died of grief, but it was no boot. He gave his kingdom in charge to his high steward, told his barons to choose a new king when they should learn that he was dead, put on a sclavin and nothing else, took his harp, and went barefoot out at the gate. Ten years he lived in the woods and on the heath; his body wasted away, his beard grew to his girdle. His only solace was in his harp, and, when the weather was bright, he would play, and all the beasts and birds would flock to him. Often at hot noon-day he would see the king of fairy hunting with his rout, or an armed host would go by him with banners displayed, or knights and ladies would come dancing; but whither they went he could not tell. One day he descried sixty ladies who were hawking. He went towards them and saw that one of them was Heurodis. He looked at her wistfully, and she at him; neither spoke a word, but tears fell from her eyes, and the ladies hurried her away. He followed, and spared neither stub nor stem. They went in at a rock, and he after. They alighted at a superb castle; he knocked at the gate, told the porter he was a minstrel, and was let in. There he saw Heurodis, sleeping under an ympe tree.

Orfeo went into the hall, and saw a king and queen, sitting in a tabernacle. He kneeled down before the king. What man art thou? said the king. I never sent for thee, and never found I man so bold as to come here unbidden. Lord, quoth Orfeo, I am but a poor minstrel, and it is a way of ours to seek many a lord's house, though we be not welcome. Without more words he took his harp and began to play. All the palace came to listen, and lay down at his feet. The king sat still and was glad to hear, and, when the harping was done, said, Minstrel, ask of me whatever it be; I will pay thee largely. "Sir," said Orfeo, "I beseech thee give me the lady that sleepeth under the ympe tree." "Nay," quoth the king,"ye were a sorry couple; for thou art lean and rough and black, and she is lovely and has no lack. A lothly thing were it to see her in thy company." "Gentle king," replied the harper, it were a fouler thing to hear a lie from thy mouth." "Take her, then, and be blithe of her," said the king.

Orfeo now turned homewards, but first presented himself to the steward alone, and in beggar's clothes, as a harper from heathendom, to see if he were a true man. The loyal steward was ready to welcome every good harper for love of his lord. King Orfeo made himself known; the steward threw over the table, and fell down at his feet, and so did all the lords. They brought the queen to the town. Orfeo and Heurodis were crowned anew, and lived long afterward.

The Scandinavian burden was, perhaps, no more intelligible to the singer than "Hey non nonny" is to us. The first line seems to be Unst for Danish

Skoven årle grön (Early green's the wood).

The sense of the other line is not so obvious. Professor Grundtvig has suggested to me,

Hvor hjorten han går årlig (Where the hart goes yearly).

The Leisure Hour, February 14, 1880, No 1468, p. 109. Obtained from the singing of Andrew Coutts, an old man in Unst, Shetland, by Mr Biot Edmondston.

1Der lived a king inta da aste,Scowan ürla grünDer lived a lady in da wast.Whar giorten han grün oarlac2Dis king he has a huntin gaen,He's left his Lady Isabel alane.3'Oh I wis ye'd never gaen away,For at your hame is döl an wae.4'For da king o Ferrie we his daert,Has pierced your lady to da hert.'* * * * *5And aifter dem da king has gaen,But whan he cam it was a grey stane.6Dan he took oot his pipes ta play,Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.7And first he played da notes o noy,An dan he played da notes o joy.8An dan he played da göd gabber reel,Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.* * * * *9'Noo come ye in inta wir ha,An come ye in among wis a'.'10Now he's gaen in inta der ha,An he's gaen in among dem a'.11Dan he took out his pipes to play,Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.12An first he played da notes o noy,An dan he played da notes o joy.13An dan he played da göd gabber reel,Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.14'Noo tell to us what ye will hae:What sall we gie you for your play?15'What I will hae I will you tell,An dat's me Lady Isabel.'16'Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame,An yees be king ower a' your ain.'17He's taen his lady, an he's gaen hame,An noo he's king ower a' his ain.

1Der lived a king inta da aste,Scowan ürla grünDer lived a lady in da wast.Whar giorten han grün oarlac

2Dis king he has a huntin gaen,He's left his Lady Isabel alane.

3'Oh I wis ye'd never gaen away,For at your hame is döl an wae.

4'For da king o Ferrie we his daert,Has pierced your lady to da hert.'

* * * * *

5And aifter dem da king has gaen,But whan he cam it was a grey stane.

6Dan he took oot his pipes ta play,Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.

7And first he played da notes o noy,An dan he played da notes o joy.

8An dan he played da göd gabber reel,Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.

* * * * *

9'Noo come ye in inta wir ha,An come ye in among wis a'.'

10Now he's gaen in inta der ha,An he's gaen in among dem a'.

11Dan he took out his pipes to play,Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.

12An first he played da notes o noy,An dan he played da notes o joy.

13An dan he played da göd gabber reel,Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.

14'Noo tell to us what ye will hae:What sall we gie you for your play?

15'What I will hae I will you tell,An dat's me Lady Isabel.'

16'Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame,An yees be king ower a' your ain.'

17He's taen his lady, an he's gaen hame,An noo he's king ower a' his ain.

A.Herd's MSS,I, 132,II, 191. Herd's Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776,II, 237.B. a.'Fine Flowers in the Valley,' Johnson's Museum, p. 331.b.Scott's Minstrelsy,III, 259 (1803).C. 'The Cruel Mother,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 161.D. a.Kinloch MSS, V, 103.b.'The Cruel Mother,' Kinloch, Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 46.E.'The Cruel Mother.'a.Motherwell's MS., p. 390.b.Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 33.F.'The Cruel Mother.'a.Buchan's MSS,II, 98.b.Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland,II, 222.G.Notes and Queries, 1st S.,VIII, 358.H.'The Cruel Mother,' Motherwell's MS., p. 402.I.'The Minister's Daughter of New York.'a.Buchan's MSS,II, 111.b.Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland,II, 217.c.'Hey wi the rose and the lindie O,' Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs,I, 106.J. a.'The Rose o Malindie O,' Harris MS., f. 10.b.Fragment communicated by Dr T. Davidson.K.Motherwell's MS., p. 186.L.'Fine Flowers in the Valley,' Smith's Scottish Minstrel,IV, 33.M.From Miss M. Reburn, as learned in County Meath, Ireland, one stanza.

A.Herd's MSS,I, 132,II, 191. Herd's Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776,II, 237.

B. a.'Fine Flowers in the Valley,' Johnson's Museum, p. 331.b.Scott's Minstrelsy,III, 259 (1803).

C. 'The Cruel Mother,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 161.

D. a.Kinloch MSS, V, 103.b.'The Cruel Mother,' Kinloch, Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 46.

E.'The Cruel Mother.'a.Motherwell's MS., p. 390.b.Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 33.

F.'The Cruel Mother.'a.Buchan's MSS,II, 98.b.Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland,II, 222.

G.Notes and Queries, 1st S.,VIII, 358.

H.'The Cruel Mother,' Motherwell's MS., p. 402.

I.'The Minister's Daughter of New York.'a.Buchan's MSS,II, 111.b.Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland,II, 217.c.'Hey wi the rose and the lindie O,' Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs,I, 106.

J. a.'The Rose o Malindie O,' Harris MS., f. 10.b.Fragment communicated by Dr T. Davidson.

K.Motherwell's MS., p. 186.

L.'Fine Flowers in the Valley,' Smith's Scottish Minstrel,IV, 33.

M.From Miss M. Reburn, as learned in County Meath, Ireland, one stanza.

Two fragments of this ballad,A,B, were printed in the last quarter of the eighteenth century;C-Lwere committed to writing after 1800; and, of these,E,H,J,Kare now printed for the first time.

A-Hdiffer only slightly, but several of these versions are very imperfect. A young woman, who passes for a leal maiden, gives birth to two babes [A,B, one,H, three], puts them to death with a penknife,B-F, and buries them, or,H, ties them hand and feet and buries them alive. She afterwards sees two pretty boys, and exclaims that if they were hers she would treat them most tenderly. They make answer that when they were hers they were very differently treated, rehearse what she had done, and inform or threaten her that hell shall be her portion,C,D,E,F,H. InIthe children are buried alive, as inH, inJ astrangled, inJ bandLkilled with the penknife, but the story is the same down to the termination, where, instead of simple hell-fire, there are various seven-year penances, properly belonging to the ballad of 'The Maid and the Palmer,' which follows this.

All the English ballads are in two-line stanzas.[181]

Until 1870 no corresponding ballad had been found in Denmark, though none was more likely to occur inDanish. That year Kristensen, in the course of his very remarkable ballad-quest in Jutland, recovered two versions which approach surprisingly near to Scottish tradition, and especially toE: Jydske Folkeviser,I, 329, No 121A,B, 'Barnemordersken.' Two other Danish versions have been obtained since then, but have not been published.AandBare much the same, anda close translation ofAwill not take much more space than would be required for a sufficient abstract.

Little Kirsten took with her the bower-women five,And with them she went to the wood belive.She spread her cloak down on the earth,And on it to two little twins gave birth.She laid them under a turf so green,Nor suffered for them a sorrow unseen.She laid them under so broad a stone,Suffered sorrow nor harm for what she had done.Eight years it was, and the children twainWould fain go home to their mother again.They went and before Our Lord they stood:'Might we go home to our mother, we would.''Ye may go to your mother, if ye will,But ye may not contrive any ill.'They knocked at the door, they made no din:'Rise up, our mother, and let us in.'By life and by death hath she cursed and sworn,That never a child in the world had she borne.'Stop, stop, dear mother, and swear not so fast,We shall recount to you what has passed.'You took with you the bower-women five,And with them went to the wood belive.'You spread your cloak down on the earth,And on it to two little twins gave birth.'You laid us under a turf so green,Nor suffered for us a sorrow unseen.'You laid us under so broad a stone,Suffered sorrow nor harm for what you had done.''Nay my dear bairns, but stay with me;And four barrels of gold shall be your fee.''You may give us four, or five, if you choose,But not for all that, heaven will we lose.'You may give us eight, you may give us nine,But not for all these, heaven will we tine.'Our seat is made ready in heavenly light,But for you a seat in hell is dight.'

Little Kirsten took with her the bower-women five,And with them she went to the wood belive.

She spread her cloak down on the earth,And on it to two little twins gave birth.

She laid them under a turf so green,Nor suffered for them a sorrow unseen.

She laid them under so broad a stone,Suffered sorrow nor harm for what she had done.

Eight years it was, and the children twainWould fain go home to their mother again.

They went and before Our Lord they stood:'Might we go home to our mother, we would.'

'Ye may go to your mother, if ye will,But ye may not contrive any ill.'

They knocked at the door, they made no din:'Rise up, our mother, and let us in.'

By life and by death hath she cursed and sworn,That never a child in the world had she borne.

'Stop, stop, dear mother, and swear not so fast,We shall recount to you what has passed.

'You took with you the bower-women five,And with them went to the wood belive.

'You spread your cloak down on the earth,And on it to two little twins gave birth.

'You laid us under a turf so green,Nor suffered for us a sorrow unseen.

'You laid us under so broad a stone,Suffered sorrow nor harm for what you had done.'

'Nay my dear bairns, but stay with me;And four barrels of gold shall be your fee.'

'You may give us four, or five, if you choose,But not for all that, heaven will we lose.

'You may give us eight, you may give us nine,But not for all these, heaven will we tine.

'Our seat is made ready in heavenly light,But for you a seat in hell is dight.'

A ballad is spread all overGermanywhich is probably a variation of 'The Cruel Mother,' though the resemblance is rather in the general character than in the details.A, 'Höllisches Recht,' Wunderhorn,II, 202, ed. of 1808,II, 205, ed. 1857. Mittler, No 489, p. 383, seems to be this regulated and filled out.B, Erlach, 'Die Rabenmutter,'IV, 148; repeated, with the addition of one stanza, by Zuccalmaglio, p. 203, No 97.C, 'Die Kindsmörderinn,' Meinert, p. 164, from the Kuhländchen; turned into current German, Erk's Liederhort, p. 144, No 41c.D, Simrock, p. 87, No 37a, from the Aargau.E, 'Das falsche Mutterherz,' Erk u. Irmer, Heft 5, No 7, and 'Die Kindesmörderin,' Erk's Liederhort, p. 140, No 41, Brandenburg.F, Liederhort, p. 142, No 41a, Silesia.G, Liederhort, p. 143, 41b, from the Rhein, very near toB.H, Hoffmann u. Richter, No 31, p. 54, andI, No 32, p. 57, Silesia.J, Ditfurth, Fränkische V. 1.,II, 12, No 13.K, 'Die Rabenmutter,' Peter, Volksthümliches aus Österreichisch-Schlesien,I, 210, No 21.L, 'Der Teufel u. die Müllerstochter,' Pröhle, Weltliche u. geistliche V. 1., p. 15, No 9, Hanoverian Harz. Repetitions and compounded copies are not noticed.

The story is nearly this in all. A herdsman, passing through a wood, hears the cry of a child, but cannot make out whence the sound comes. The child announces that it is hidden in a hollow tree, and asks to be taken to the house where its mother is to be married that day. There arrived, the child proclaims before all the company that the bride is its mother. The bride, or some one of the party, calls attention to the fact that she is still wearing her maiden-wreath. Nevertheless, says the child, she has had three children: one she drowned, one she buried in a dung-heap [the sand], and one she hid in a hollow tree. The bride wishes that the devil may come for herif this is true, and, upon the word, Satan appears and takes her off; inB,G,J, with words like these:

'Komm her, komm her, meine schönste Braut,Dein Sessel ist dir in der Hölle gebaut.'J9.

AWendishversion, 'Der Höllentanz,' in Haupt and Schmaler,I, 290, No 292, differs from the German ballads only in this, that the bride has already borne nine children, and is going with the tenth.

A combination ofB,C,D,Fis translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 43, p. 279, andI, from the eighth stanza on, p. 282.Cis translated by Wolff, Halle der Völker,I, 11, and Hauschatz, p. 223; Allingham's version (nearlyB a) by Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, p. 178, No 48.

Herd's MSS,I, 132,II, 191: Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776,II, 237.

* * * * *1And there she's leand her back to a thorn,Oh and alelladay, oh and alelladayAnd there she has her baby born.Ten thousand times good night and be wi thee2She has houked a grave ayont the sun,And there she has buried the sweet babe in.3And she's gane back to her father's ha,She's counted the leelest maid o them a'.* * * * *4'O look not sae sweet, my bonie babe,Gin ye smyle sae, ye'll smyle me dead.'* * * * *

* * * * *

1And there she's leand her back to a thorn,Oh and alelladay, oh and alelladayAnd there she has her baby born.Ten thousand times good night and be wi thee

2She has houked a grave ayont the sun,And there she has buried the sweet babe in.

3And she's gane back to her father's ha,She's counted the leelest maid o them a'.

* * * * *

4'O look not sae sweet, my bonie babe,Gin ye smyle sae, ye'll smyle me dead.'

* * * * *

a.Johnson's Museum, p. 331.b.Scott's Minstrelsy, 1803,III, 259, preface.

1She sat down below a thorn,Fine flowers in the valleyAnd there she has her sweet babe born.And the green leaves they grow rarely2'Smile na sae sweet, my bonie babe,And ye smile sae sweet, ye'll smile me dead.'3She's taen out her little pen-knife,And twinnd the sweet babe o its life.4She's howket a grave by the light o the moon,And there she's buried her sweet babe in.5As she was going to the church,She saw a sweet babe in the porch.6'O sweet babe, and thou were mine,I wad cleed thee in the silk so fine.'7'O mother dear, when I was thine,You did na prove to me sae kind.'* * * * *

1She sat down below a thorn,Fine flowers in the valleyAnd there she has her sweet babe born.And the green leaves they grow rarely

2'Smile na sae sweet, my bonie babe,And ye smile sae sweet, ye'll smile me dead.'

3She's taen out her little pen-knife,And twinnd the sweet babe o its life.

4She's howket a grave by the light o the moon,And there she's buried her sweet babe in.

5As she was going to the church,She saw a sweet babe in the porch.

6'O sweet babe, and thou were mine,I wad cleed thee in the silk so fine.'

7'O mother dear, when I was thine,You did na prove to me sae kind.'

* * * * *

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 161.

1She leaned her back unto a thorn,Three, three, and three by threeAnd there she has her two babes born.Three, three, and thirty-three2She took frae 'bout her ribbon-belt,And there she bound them hand and foot.3She has taen out her wee pen-knife,And there she ended baith their life.4She has howked a hole baith deep and wide,She has put them in baith side by side.5She has covered them oer wi a marble stane,Thinking she would gang maiden hame.6As she was walking by her father's castle wa,She saw twa pretty babes playing at the ba.7'O bonnie babes, gin ye were mine,I would dress you up in satin fine.8'O I would dress you in the silk,And wash you ay in morning milk.'9'O cruel mother, we were thine,And thou made us to wear the twine.10'O cursed mother, heaven's high,And that's where thou will neer win nigh.11'O cursed mother, hell is deep,And there thou'll enter step by step.'

1She leaned her back unto a thorn,Three, three, and three by threeAnd there she has her two babes born.Three, three, and thirty-three

2She took frae 'bout her ribbon-belt,And there she bound them hand and foot.

3She has taen out her wee pen-knife,And there she ended baith their life.

4She has howked a hole baith deep and wide,She has put them in baith side by side.

5She has covered them oer wi a marble stane,Thinking she would gang maiden hame.

6As she was walking by her father's castle wa,She saw twa pretty babes playing at the ba.

7'O bonnie babes, gin ye were mine,I would dress you up in satin fine.

8'O I would dress you in the silk,And wash you ay in morning milk.'

9'O cruel mother, we were thine,And thou made us to wear the twine.

10'O cursed mother, heaven's high,And that's where thou will neer win nigh.

11'O cursed mother, hell is deep,And there thou'll enter step by step.'

a.Kinloch's MSS,V, 103, in the handwriting of James Beattie.b.Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 46: from the recitation of Miss C. Beattie.

1There lives a lady in London,All alone and alone eeShe's gane wi bairn to the clerk's son.Down by the green wood sae bonnie2She's taen her mantle her about,She's gane aff to the gude green wood.3She's set her back untill an oak,First it bowed and then it broke.4She's set her back untill a tree,Bonny were the twa boys she did bear.5But she took out a little pen-knife,And she parted them and their sweet life.6She's aff untill her father's ha;She was the lealest maiden that was amang them a'.7As she lookit oure the castle wa,She spied twa bonnie boys playing at the ba.8'O if these two babes were mine,They should wear the silk and the sabelline!'9'O mother dear, when we were thine,We neither wore the silks nor the sabelline.10'But out ye took a little pen-knife,And ye parted us and our sweet life.11'But now we're in the heavens hie,And ye've the pains o hell to drie.'

1There lives a lady in London,All alone and alone eeShe's gane wi bairn to the clerk's son.Down by the green wood sae bonnie

2She's taen her mantle her about,She's gane aff to the gude green wood.

3She's set her back untill an oak,First it bowed and then it broke.

4She's set her back untill a tree,Bonny were the twa boys she did bear.

5But she took out a little pen-knife,And she parted them and their sweet life.

6She's aff untill her father's ha;She was the lealest maiden that was amang them a'.

7As she lookit oure the castle wa,She spied twa bonnie boys playing at the ba.

8'O if these two babes were mine,They should wear the silk and the sabelline!'

9'O mother dear, when we were thine,We neither wore the silks nor the sabelline.

10'But out ye took a little pen-knife,And ye parted us and our sweet life.

11'But now we're in the heavens hie,And ye've the pains o hell to drie.'

a.Motherwell's MS., p. 390.b.Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 33. From the recitation of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.

1There was a lady, she lived in Lurk,Sing hey alone and alonie OShe fell in love with her father's clerk.Down by yon greenwood sidie O2She loved him seven years and a day,Till her big belly did her betray.3She leaned her back unto a tree,And there began her sad misery.4She set her foot unto a thorn,And there she got her two babes born.5She took out her wee pen-knife,She twind them both of their sweet life.6She took the sattins was on her head,She rolled them in both when they were dead.7She howkit a grave forenent the sun,And there she buried her twa babes in.8As she was walking thro her father's ha,She spied twa boys playing at the ba.9'O pretty boys, if ye were mine,I would dress ye both in the silks so fine.'10'O mother dear, when we were thine,Thou neer dressed us in silks so fine.11'For thou was a lady, thou livd in Lurk,And thou fell in love with thy father's clerk.12'Thou loved him seven years and a day,Till thy big belly did thee betray.13'Thou leaned thy back unto a tree,And there began thy sad misery.14'Thou set thy foot unto a thorn,And there thou got thy two babes born.15'Thou took out thy wee pen-knife,And twind us both of our sweet life.16'Thou took the sattins was on thy head,Thou rolled us both in when we were dead.17'Thou howkit a grave forenent the sun,And there thou buried thy twa babes in.18'But now we're both in [the] heavens hie,There is pardon for us, but none for thee.'19'My pretty boys, beg pardon for me!''There is pardon for us, but none for thee.'

1There was a lady, she lived in Lurk,Sing hey alone and alonie OShe fell in love with her father's clerk.Down by yon greenwood sidie O

2She loved him seven years and a day,Till her big belly did her betray.

3She leaned her back unto a tree,And there began her sad misery.

4She set her foot unto a thorn,And there she got her two babes born.

5She took out her wee pen-knife,She twind them both of their sweet life.

6She took the sattins was on her head,She rolled them in both when they were dead.

7She howkit a grave forenent the sun,And there she buried her twa babes in.

8As she was walking thro her father's ha,She spied twa boys playing at the ba.

9'O pretty boys, if ye were mine,I would dress ye both in the silks so fine.'

10'O mother dear, when we were thine,Thou neer dressed us in silks so fine.

11'For thou was a lady, thou livd in Lurk,And thou fell in love with thy father's clerk.

12'Thou loved him seven years and a day,Till thy big belly did thee betray.

13'Thou leaned thy back unto a tree,And there began thy sad misery.

14'Thou set thy foot unto a thorn,And there thou got thy two babes born.

15'Thou took out thy wee pen-knife,And twind us both of our sweet life.

16'Thou took the sattins was on thy head,Thou rolled us both in when we were dead.

17'Thou howkit a grave forenent the sun,And there thou buried thy twa babes in.

18'But now we're both in [the] heavens hie,There is pardon for us, but none for thee.'

19'My pretty boys, beg pardon for me!''There is pardon for us, but none for thee.'

a.Buchan's MSS,II, 98.b.Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland,II, 222.

1It fell ance upon a day,Edinburgh, EdinburghIt fell ance upon a day,Stirling for ayeIt fell ance upon a dayThe clerk and lady went to play.So proper Saint Johnston stands fair upon Tay2'If my baby be a son,I'll make him a lord of high renown.'3She's leand her back to the wa,Prayd that her pains might fa.4She's leand her back to the thorn,There was her baby born.5'O bonny baby, if ye suck sair,You'll never suck by my side mair.'6She's riven the muslin frae her head,Tied the baby hand and feet.7Out she took her little pen-knife,Twind the young thing o its sweet life.8She's howked a hole anent the meen,There laid her sweet baby in.9She had her to her father's ha,She was the meekest maid amang them a'.10It fell ance upon a day,She saw twa babies at their play.11'O bonny babies, gin ye were mine,I'd cleathe you in the silks sae fine.'12'O wild mother, when we were thine,You cleathd us not in silks so fine.13'But now we're in the heavens high,And you've the pains o hell to try.'14She threw hersell oer the castle-wa,There I wat she got a fa.

1It fell ance upon a day,Edinburgh, EdinburghIt fell ance upon a day,Stirling for ayeIt fell ance upon a dayThe clerk and lady went to play.So proper Saint Johnston stands fair upon Tay

2'If my baby be a son,I'll make him a lord of high renown.'

3She's leand her back to the wa,Prayd that her pains might fa.

4She's leand her back to the thorn,There was her baby born.

5'O bonny baby, if ye suck sair,You'll never suck by my side mair.'

6She's riven the muslin frae her head,Tied the baby hand and feet.

7Out she took her little pen-knife,Twind the young thing o its sweet life.

8She's howked a hole anent the meen,There laid her sweet baby in.

9She had her to her father's ha,She was the meekest maid amang them a'.

10It fell ance upon a day,She saw twa babies at their play.

11'O bonny babies, gin ye were mine,I'd cleathe you in the silks sae fine.'

12'O wild mother, when we were thine,You cleathd us not in silks so fine.

13'But now we're in the heavens high,And you've the pains o hell to try.'

14She threw hersell oer the castle-wa,There I wat she got a fa.

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